


if love is weakness, then let me be weak

by junesqued



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:55:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junesqued/pseuds/junesqued
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Clarke/Lexa ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if love is weakness, then let me be weak

_“I thought I’d never get over the pain, but I did.”_  
 _“How?”_  
 _“By recognizing it for what it is: weakness.”  
_ _“What is?  Love?”_

\---

It was sundown.  They had managed to cage the beast, but its distant roar and burning mark on her arm kept Lexa awake.  It was better this way – she feared of the tricks her mind play after her eyes were shut.

She observed as Clarke fell asleep, twitching at the lightest of sounds, mumbling names and apologies, shaking and shivering…

Lexa picked at broken branches at her feet and tossed them into the fire.  As the heat rose, the whispering faded, and Clarke relaxed.  She was defenseless.

And Lexa defended.

When had they begun to trust each other?  Or rather, when had Lexa begun to trust again?  Were these actions under the terms of the alliance or was this a return of gratitude?

The Sky People confused and frightened her with their culture and methods, and she still had not forgiven them for all the lives they wasted away for their simple existence, but Clarke – she saw herself in Clarke.

But what she did not dare to admit was that Clarke was stronger.  Not in brute strength, not yet.  The moment she accepted this, weakness would overcome her.

The memories, after all, had already begun to find their ways back to torment her.

Being commander (with her attention and presence constantly demanded by all her people and their enemies) had helped keep the thoughts away.  There were moments like this, however, that silence pervaded and nightmares were awake.

Lexa remembered, vividly, the remains – Costia’s – rolling on her stained hands, the blood – Costia’s – soaking her skin, the anger of wishing a thousand deaths upon the murderers – Costia’s –, the pain – Costia’s –, the weakness – hers…

Many had died by her hands, but the one that died _because_ of her was the only one that drove her insane.

The people knew not to say her name, and no one dared to spoke of the incident.  When she could only remember the price Costia paid for being hers, Lexa could no longer allow herself to think of her love.  Lexa learned, then, how to become heartless.

But when she watched Clarke plunged the knife into the heart of the boy she loved, covered herself in his blood and her tears, burned the body into its ashes, Lexa saw the girl of her past.  She was inclined to share her loss and advised that love was weakness.

That, however, made her vulnerable.  _Clarke_ made her vulnerable.

And Lexa chose to ignore it time and time again, when she knowingly went against the tradition of her own people so that Clarke can cast the flames; when she ordered that the best of game be prepared for the feast and offered Clarke to drink together; when she heeded Clarke’s tactics and strategies at her war table as an equal; when she silenced Quint and let death be given by Clarke if she wished; when she was willing to sacrifice so that Clarke would live; when she followed where Clarke led.

_“You want to know why I saved you?  Because I need you.”_

Words, they were.  Lies, possibly, but Lexa believed her.  And the moment she did, her strength wavered.

Everyone needed the commander.  Everyone needed her spirit.  Nobody had ever needed Lexa.

And, truth was, Lexa needed Clarke.  She had placed her faith in Clarke.

When they stood eye to eye that morning, Lexa learned of the answers she feared.

“I was wrong about you, Clarke.  Your heart shows no sign of weakness.”

_‘Mine does.’_


End file.
